


Fingers and Toes

by literature_and_ocean_waves



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Movies - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Babies, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is a Sweetheart, M/M, Mpreg, SO MUCH FLUFF, daddy erik is one of my favorite things now thanks a lot XMA, part of my au, seriously you will get toothaches at how fluffy this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literature_and_ocean_waves/pseuds/literature_and_ocean_waves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beds, babies, and boxes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingers and Toes

“It is rather silly, I know.” Charles says. “But your Auntie Raven really didn’t have to tease me so badly about it. It’s hardly fair. Not when she used to-“

“Am I interrupting?” A voice says quietly. 

Charles jumps in surprise. Or as best as one can jump if they are currently lying in bed and propped up by a stack of fluffy pillows. 

“Erik!” He squeaks. 

“Hello, Charles.” Erik says. 

“Wha- What are you doing back so early?” Charles asks, hand on his chest to calm his rapidly palpating heart. 

“Traffic was less terrible than I thought it’d be.” Erik says, walking in and sliding off his favorite maroon tie. “Roads were already cleared of the snow.”

“Oh. I see.” Charles says. “Well, welcome home.”

“Thank you.” Erik replies. He removes his shoes and starts changing into a sleep shirt. Charles fidgets with the edge of a blanket, cheeks still red in embarrassment. “Was temple nice?” He asks. 

“Yes.” Erik says, conversationally. “Lovely service, as always. Nothing special, but peaceful.”

“Good then.”

Erik goes to brush his teeth and the room is filled with an awkward silence. Charles hears him rinse his mouth in the sink and then call out from the bathroom. “Care to tell me who you were talking to?” He asks. 

Charles grunts in acknowledgement. “I think you are smart enough to put it together for yourself, Mr. Lehnsherr.” He says, slightly irritated. 

“Is it a regular thing?” Erik asks, poking his head out of the doorway and shutting off the light behind him. 

“Yes.” Charles says, now very preoccupied with smoothing out the bed covers around his waist. Erik then climbs into bed next to him and musses up all his hard work. Charles pouts and Erik lightly plays with his hair. 

“So.” He says. “In the months that we have known about the children, I’ve never seen you do this once because…?”

The color that had been slowly leaving Charles’s face returns with full force. “Because it’s embarrassing.” He says. “And… personal. I would rather not look mad as a hatter by talking to my stomach.”

Erik nods thoughtfully, as if trying to understand. “Do you expect them to talk back?” He asks. 

“No.” Charles answers, glaring. “Don’t be an ass.”

Erik ignores the insult. “Then why do you do it?” He presses. 

“Because,” Charles says, sighing. “It’s… nice. I feel like I’m… bonding with them.” And, so as to not seem completely crazy, he adds “Besides, all of the baby books said that the behavior is perfectly normal.”

“Really?” Erik asks, looking legitimately surprised. “Talking to unborn babies is normal?”

“Yes, Erik.” Charles says, sounding much the way he does during one of his genetics lectures. “It is something that many carrying parents will do.”

“Oh.” Erik says. “Okay.”

Charles leans back into his pillows and picks up his book from the nightstand. Erik lies next to him, still on top of the blankets and seemingly lost in thought. 

“Can they…” Erik slowly questions after a few minutes. “Can they hear you?” His voice sounds beautifully hopeful. Charles smiles.

“Yes, actually. They can.” He says. 

“Really?” Erik sits up, eyes bright and curious. “How?”

“Well they can’t understand anything yet.” Charles explains. “They are far too little for that. But they like the sounds.” He smiles a bit more. “It’s soothing for them.”

“Could they hear me? If I talked to them?” Erik asks, appearing like he is not sure if he wants to know the answer or not for fear of disappointment. Charles reassuringly squeezes his arm. 

“Of course.” He says, kindly. “They hear you all the time, Erik.”

“They do?” Erik asks, looking quite stunned. 

“Well sure.” Charles says, smile having grown into a big grin. “They always hear people talking. And any other sounds, for that matter. As long as there is noise going on around me, then they hear it, too. A bit muffled perhaps, but it still gets through.” 

Charles is surprised that Erik did not know this; he had been the one poring over the books on fetal development. Then again, he had been more concerned with making sure the babies were growing correctly. And watching everything that Charles ate with a kind of dog-like tenacity. It was hardly a wonder that he had skipped the sections about interacting with the babies in favor of the health-related ones. 

“I just thought… with how deep they are…” Erik trails off. Charles nuzzles him affectionately. 

“Have you never been able to hear someone else’s heart beat?” He asks. Erik looks at him like that is a stupid question. Which it is. 

“Course I have.” Erik says. “I hear yours whenever I have my head on your chest.”

“Well if you on the outside can hear something on the inside of me,” Charles asks, teacher-like as ever. “Wouldn’t it make sense that someone on the inside of me can hear the outside?”

Erik chews on his lower lip, thinking. “Huh.” He says. “I guess so.”

He lies back down and curls up at Charles’s side, before lifting up the blankets and Charles’s pajama shirt to trace patterns on his swollen stomach. Charles sighs contently, relaxed, and watches Erik. 

It has become routine for them at this point: lying in bed and Erik investigating the bump that is his growing children. He never does it during the day, due to both busyness at the school and the fear that someone in the house might see him being, as Sean once put it, “a big softie”. But when everyone in the house has gone to sleep and can no longer judge him, Erik turns into quite the cuddly father-to-be. Charles thinks it is precious, even if he does not say so. 

“They love you, you know.” Charles says after a while. Erik is pulled away from rubbing Charles’s stomach to stare up at him. 

“How do you know that?” He asks, voice barely breaking a whisper. “Can you… hear them?” He taps his forehead for emphasis. 

Charles shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He says. “It’s not words. Hell, I don’t even need my telepathy to know most of the time.”

“What do you mean?” Erik probes. 

Charles is not sure how to explain it. It’s too cerebral, too emotional, too… Charles to put into terms that someone as logical and mechanical as Erik will understand. He tries a different approach. 

“Here,” Charles says. “Just kind of lie there and talk. Doesn’t have to be anything important.”

“Okay…” Erik says, willing to go along with the experiment. He talks about some of the things that he saw at temple tonight: the people that he has become friends with, the food served afterwards, having a conversation with the rabbi. Then, after only a minute or two, Erik stops. For good reason. 

“Toes!” He cries. “I can see a set of toes! Moving! Towards me!” 

He sounds elated. Charles chuckles. 

“Yep.” He says, petting Erik’s hair. “Your son is rather fond of scooching close to wherever your voice is coming from.”

“Pietro?” Erik asks, perplexed. They had picked the names out a few months ago. “How do you know it’s him and not Wanda?”

“A few ways.” Charles replies. “One is placement. We saw which one he was on the ultrasound a while back.” Boy, had that been a day. Hank had fainted while running the equipment, Erik had nearly blown as gasket when he did, and both twins had managed to flick off their parents when they were on the screen. It was fun. “Between my small internal space,” Charles continues. “And Wanda taking up her own share of things, he is rather limited to where he can go.” Charles snorts. “Not that he doesn’t try his damndest...”

“What do you mean?” Erik asks. 

“Pietro is… very fond of movement.” Charles says. “I am sure you have noticed, Erik. You sleep with your hands on me all night.” Charles is also starting to suspect that if Pietro does have a mutation, it will no doubt be something physical. Maybe flying. Or leaping. Something like that. 

“Well yes,” Erik says. “I’ve felt them move before, but I never thought it had anything to do with me. Or that it was one and not the other.”

“Oh I see.” Charles says. “I guess it is just more obvious to me since I spend so much time with them and can learn all the patterns.”

Erik nods and coos softly at his stomach, murmuring in German. Charles feels like his heart is full of warm, fuzzy bunnies. Or maybe mashed potatoes and gravy. Charles silently curses his silly hormones and cravings. 

“You mentioned that you could hear them.” Erik says. “What do they sound like?”

Charles rest’s his chin on the top of Erik’s head. “As I said, it’s not words.” He says slowly. “It’s just kind of… a presence. The idea of a mind. No images or sounds or true senses. Just emotion and sensation, pure and clean.” The memory makes him smile in the gentlest way possible. 

“Are they different from each other?” Erik asks. “Wanda and Pietro?”

“Of course.” Charles says. “They might be sharing space right now, but they are completely independent little beings.” He tries not to sound too lecture-y this time. Sometimes a telepath forgets that the rest the world does not hear what he can, i.e. the rest of the world. 

“Can I… feel them?” Erik asks, sounding as nervously excited as he did the day of the first ultrasound. “With you?”

Charles kisses him on the cheek. “I would be glad to.” He says. “These are your children, too, Erik. You never need to ask.”

Erik sits up and Charles touches his fingers to his temple. 

“I will start with Pietro, okay?” He says. Erik just nods. 

Charles casts his mind down, deep, toward the tiny ones blossoming inside of him. He finds Pietro’s easily, as it is generally… louder than Wanda’s, and curls his power around it. Then, rather like pulling on gardening hose, he gently walks with it to the gates of Erik’s mind. He presses against them, not with force, but enough to announce his presence. Erik slowly lowers his barriers, welcoming but cautious as ever. Charles slips inside and places the strand of Pietro’s mind against Erik’s. After a moment, Charles can feel joy bloom inside Erik’s consciousness. 

Pietro’s mind is like a warm, sunny, afternoon. Cheerful and hopeful and welcoming. Golden sunlight and bright green grass and dancing shadows filtered down from the leaves of trees. A welcome relief for school children who are done with their work for the day and can now happily play outside. 

Charles can feel the wonder and the awe as Erik explores Pietro’s mind. He is… happy. And amazed. And honored. But most of all he is grateful. Because, with all the ugly things in Erik Magnus Lehnsherr’s past, he is stunned that he can still be part of something so beautiful. 

Charles presses his forehead to Erik’s’, both physically and mentally. 

“This is your son, Erik.” He speaks into his mind. “Yours. He may not be immune to all the things you have experienced but he certainly can help move you forward. Away from them.”

Erik nods and if Charles were talking to any other man, then he might think that Erik is going to cry. But that is just not Erik’s way. 

Charles pulls away and lets Pietro’s mind fall back to its rightful place. Erik’s consciousness whimpers slightly from the loss of contact and Charles shushes him, rubbing circles on his back. 

“I’ll show you Wanda’s now. Is that alright?” He asks. Erik nuzzles him in agreement. 

Charles repeats the same process as he had with Pietro’s mind. But even at this stage this mind is much different from how Pietro’s had been. It is less solid, more fluid. His power must hold this mind much differently than it had previously.   
He presses it to Erik’s mind and Charles feels the cerebral equivalent of an intake of breath. 

Wanda’s mind is… deep. Deep and cool and open. Like the sky on a cloudless night. An endless expansion of stars that is somehow both humbling and reassuring. 

“I feel…” Erik whispers aloud. “I feel as if I have seen my children’s souls…”

“You may have.” Charles whispers back. “Many cultures believe that the soul and the mind are one and the same. So the soul is located inside the head with the brain.”

“How… How can their minds already be so wonderful?” Erik asks and there are definitely tears in his eyes now. He wipes at them. “They haven’t even taken their first breath.”

Charles has honestly been asking himself the same question, but for much, much longer. Ever since that fateful afternoon, right before the mission to Cuba, when he had gone down to Hank’s lab for some tests because a pair of unknown consciousness’s had attached themselves to him and wouldn’t go away. 

“I do not know, Erik.” He says. “I have touched minds throughout my whole life, in all different stages. But I have never been so close to any this young before. Perhaps all children are like this.” Charles is certain this was true. His babies might not be due for a few months yet, but he had already become a father. The many lost little ones sleeping down the hall were testament to that. 

“It is because they are mutants.” Erik says with conviction. “There is no other explanation.” 

Charles doubts this. Firstly, because mutant children, apart from their abilities, are no different from human children in their mannerisms. And secondly, because there is no proof yet that Wanda and Pietro even are mutants. But he doesn’t want to have this argument again, so he lets the comment slide. “If that is what you choose to believe.” He says. 

Erik nods confidently and resumes his incredibly manly cooing. Charles giggles. 

“You can play with them, if you like.” He says. 

Erik glances up. “How so?" He asks. 

Charles grins playfully. “Try grabbing their toes.” He says. “It’s super fun.” It really is. Bored afternoons alone when both the staff and students had ordered him to put his feet up had led to some pretty interesting games with his little rent-free internal tenants. 

Erik does as Charles instructed, gently grabbing at two sets of tiny, wiggling toes. Within minutes, the activity has Erik laughing and playing with such joy that if Charles had any doubt about Erik’s eagerness for impending parenthood it is long gone. Not that he had had any at all. 

When the game is over and the twins have sunk back down to their warm, little nests, Erik wraps his arms around Charles, humming happily. “That was so cute.” He says. Charles nods in joyful agreement. They sit like that for a long while, quiet and safe and loved. 

“I ran into Mrs. Steinberg at temple again tonight.” Erik says a bit later. 

“Oh?” Charles asks, making conversation. “And how is she?” Charles had been rather relieved to learn of Erik’s friendship with the kind, old grandmother who had comforted him his first night back at temple some months ago. It was nice to see Erik coming out of the shell that so many years of isolation and pain had created. It seemed that a consistent home, good friends, and a reconnection to his religion had been just the ticket. 

“She’s fine.” Erik says and chuckles in amusement. “Tried to hook me up with a friend of her niece’s.”

Charles snorts. “Another one? You seem to be the favorite of all the old Jewish ladies with young women to marry off.”

Erik smirks, looking suspiciously like a rather handsome shark. “What can I say?” He says. “Guess I’m just irresistible~”

Charles rolls his eyes, but smiles all the same. “You’re new.” He says. “That’s all. Once the shiny novelty rubs off, you’ll just be grumpy Erik like you are here.”

Erik puts a dramatic hand to his chest. “You wound me!” He cries in faux hurt. “Are you sure it just isn’t my natural charming self that pulls everyone in?”

Charles levels him his best deadpan expression. “If there is a natural charming self,” Charles says. “I have yet to meet him.”

“I dunno.” Erik says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “He did manage to knock you up. That is something to be said.” He winks positively lecherously. Charles just sticks his tongue out at him. “Humph.” He says. 

Erik snickers and holds him close. “Seriously, Charles.” He says, voice much gentler. “I am not going anywhere.”

Charles leans into his arms. “I know you’re not, love. I am just teasing.” He smiles good-naturedly. “And I can hardly blame those nice ladies for wanting to set you up. Considering that they think you’re single.”

“Pffft. Nice.” Erik says, sarcastic. “You haven’t met Mrs. Rothen. She’s a force of nature.”

“Well nice or not, they are still doing you what they think is a kindness.” Charles says, grinning. “It’s not like you can just walk in and say ‘Fun story: I spent six months having ridiculously naughty sex with my best friend during our many long road trips. Now we have two babies due in May and I cannot even make an honest woman out of her through marriage because she’s actually a gentleman with a very posh English accent. Oh did I mention that we are mutants? And queer as hell? So thanks, but no thanks on that date proposal.’”

Erik roars with laughter. “Ha Ha Ha Ha! You’ve got a point there!”

Charles beams at the attention and snuggles in, purring proudly at his joke. Erik nuzzles him like a cat, and then speaks rather quietly. 

“But some kind of symbol to let people know that I am happily with someone else might be a good idea…”

“What do you mean?” Charles asks, looking up. Erik only smiles. A little secret smiles that tugs at Charles’s heartstrings for some reason. Then he stands up and retrieves something from the closet, hiding it behind his back. Charles stares at him. Erik then pulls out a tiny, square box. 

“What is that?” Charles whispers. Though he has a very good idea what it is. That or he is being far, far too hopeful. 

But then Erik gets on one knee in front of the bed and opens up the box. Nestled inside are two gorgeous rings, simple and gold and very obviously from a wedding jewelry shop. 

“Charles Francis Xavier,” Erik says, voice even like he has rehearsed this. “Will you join me in wearing these rings? To show the world that we care only for each other? And that we are married in every way except name?”

Charles says nothing. Instead, he bursts into very hormonal, and very happy, tears. 

Erik looks stricken, like he is afraid that he did something wrong. And because pregnancy has currently stolen Charles’s words just like it did his center of gravity, he leans over, grabs Erik’s stupidly good-looking face in his hands, and kisses him senseless. 

When he pulls away a minute later, Erik’s eyes have glazed over. “Is that a yes?” He asks. “Because my knee is really starting to hurt on this wood and-“

“Yes.” Charles says, pulling him onto the bed to shut him up, still crying with joy. “Yes yes yes yes and yes!”

He holds out his left hand and Erik, who is grinning more than Charles’s has ever seen him, slips the little gold ring on his finger. 

“Perfect fit.” Charles says. He smiles up at Erik again. “How in the world did you manage to buy two rings using men’s sizes?”

Erik blushes, looking like one of the children when they get caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Well yours was originally much smaller.” He says. “I just… asked the metal nicely to expand to fit your hand.”

Charles stares at him, slightly slack jawed. “I was wrong.” He says. 

Erik frowns. “About what?” He asks, a bit nervous. 

“You do have a charming self.” Charles says. 

Erik just… glows. That’s the only way to describe it. Charles slips the other ring onto Erik’s finger and finds that he likes it even more than his own. Erik climbs under the blankets and the two just lie like for a while, ecstatic as could be. 

“I think your children are asleep.” Charles says softly a few minutes later. The twins had been sitting like sun-kissed stones in his stomach, warm and heavy and pleasant. 

“Well that makes two out of a necessary three.” Erik says, kissing the shell of Charles’s ear. “Bedtime for you, too.”

“Only if you join me.” He says, coy. 

Erik smiles. “Always will.”

Charles settles under the blanket and gets comfortable. Erik waits patiently, and then wraps himself around Charles like a protective python, pressing close. Charles sets his left hand on his stomach and Erik takes it into his own larger one. Charles admires the rings gleaming softly there and hums with excitement about what everyone will say tomorrow when they see them.

He yawns and snuggles into Erik’s furnace-like warmth. Pietro then takes that as his cue to kick him. But only a little and only on the spot under their intertwined fingers. 

Charles lips twitch into a smile as he starts to drift off. 

Ring fingers and tiny toes, he thinks sleepily to himself. He could not ask for more. 

 

The End.


End file.
